


Touch Me, Make Me Forget

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chair Sex, Community: hp_humpdrabbles, Drinking, F/M, First Time, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Loss of Virginity, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is her handsome new Potions professor. And Rose Weasley may be just a little bit obsessed with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Me, Make Me Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletladyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/gifts).



It took a week before Rose could muster enough courage to talk to him.

"Professor Malfoy?"

Professor Malfoy turned around in his chair. "Weasley," he said. "What do you need?"

Rose swallowed. Professor Malfoy had only been teaching for a week, after Professor Slughorn's heart had given out in the middle of Potions class, but he'd soon become the subject of many student discussions. "My Potions homework, Professor. It's this—" She reached over and brought out her Potions textbook. "The part on antidotes?" she squeaked. She turned to the appropriate section and traced her finger along the line. "It says—something about a bezoar—"

Malfoy glanced over at the text. "You're a smart girl, Weasley," he said. "That's not too hard to understand."

Rose bristled. "Well, I don't understand it," she said. "Can you explain it for me, please, Professor?"

He turned to look at the clock. "Well, I suppose so," he said. He bent over the book and traced over the words. "Now, you see here, Weasley. It says that bezoars serve as an antidote to most poisons, including most of the ones you're learning about right now—"

"But how?" Rose asked.

He gave her a quelling look. "It's a complicated process that would take far too much time to  
explain right now, Weasley. The only poisons that don't are listed right here, on page fifty-four." He flipped to the page and pointed at the section. "Are there any other questions, Weasley?"

"Um—er—no," she said.

"Good." Professor Malfoy seemed to smile. "You know, your father almost died back in his sixth year. A bezoar saved his life."

Rose gaped at him. "What?"

"Didn't your father ever tell you that?" Professor Malfoy asked.

"No. What happened?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Professor Slughorn passed out some poisoned mead. Your father drank some, but Potter managed to get a bezoar and save him in time."

"Oh," Rose said. "How did you know? I mean, you weren't friends with them, or—"

Malfoy grinned. "Because I was the one who poisoned it."

Rose gulped. _Was that why Dad seemed to hate Professor Malfoy so much?_ "Why? Was it because—" She jerked her head in the direction of Professor Malfoy's left arm.

"Yes, I was." Malfoy's voice was very soft. "I became a Death Eater the summer before my sixth year. Younger than you were, actually."

"Can I …."

"No," Professor Malfoy said. Then: "I think you should leave now, Rose."

Rose nodded, and left.

* * *

Rose didn't see Professor Malfoy again until Potions class a few days later. He didn't treat her any differently. "Weasley!" he called out and the end of class.

"Yes, Professor?" Rose asked.

"How are you doing on your Potions homework, Rose?" he asked.

Rose shrugged. "Fine, I guess." She lifted her chin and looked at him. "But I still need some help."

"This period is free," Professor Malfoy said. "Do you have any classes after this, Rose?"

Rose had Transfiguration next. "No," she lied.

Professor Malfoy smiled. "Well, let's go to the Three Broomsticks," he said.

The Three Broomsticks was dark and smoky. "What do you want, Rose?" he asked.

"Uh—"

"How about firewhiskey?" Professor Malfoy asked.

Oh, Mum was going to _kill_ her. "Sure, thanks, Professor."

"Call me Draco."

"Draco," Rose said.

Professor— _Draco_ —went up to order. Rose shivered and huddled in her seat. For a moment, she briefly considered going up and asking Draco for a butterbeer instead. Or running away back to Hogwarts. But Draco arrived with two firewhiskeys, one for him and one for her, and the moment was lost.

"Cheers," Draco said, handing her a cup. Rose nodded and swallowed. It burned going down, making her eyes water. She tried to wipe them away discreetly with the sleeve of her robe. Draco silently handed her his handkerchief.

"Thanks," she said. She wiped her eyes and handed it back to him.

He nodded. "So," he said. "What did you need help on?"

"I, ah—" Rose had quite forgotten why they'd come here in the first place. "I don't need help."

"All right," he said. His arm was pressed against her shoulder. His thumb gently reached over to brush away a drop of firewhiskey on her knuckle, leaving behind a blushing spot of red on her pale skin. _Lily is going to be so jealous_ , she thought madly for a second.

But when she came back to Hogwarts, two hours later, she didn't tell Lily a word.

* * *

"Yes?" Draco said when Rose opened the door. When he saw who it was, he smiled. "Rose," he said.

"Draco."

"Should I …." Draco laughed. "It's rather crowded here, I'm afraid." He gestured around at the mess on his desk.

"It's all right," she breathed. The drop of firewhiskey she'd sneaked just before coming here had made her bold. She walked forward and perched on his lap before he could say anything.

Draco frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"You'll see," she said. She leaned over and kissed him. He tasted like Muggle cigarettes, like the one she'd sneaked from Victoire last summer, when she'd come to visit.

"I can't do this," Draco groaned. "I could get fired, you do realize—"

"I won't tell anyone," she whispered. She clawed at his shirt, ripping open the buttons. "Please." 

She traced the skin left behind, his stomach, his shoulder, down to a curious scar on his left arm—

_Oh._

"Yes," Draco said.

"Did it hurt?" she whispered.

Draco shrugged. "Not anymore," he said. Then he pulled her up and kissed her senseless, wet kisses that bit on her lips and dripped spit down her chin. His fingers crept under her jumper, over her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples.

"Did you ever …?" he asked.

"Yeah," she lied. "With Frank back during winter hols."

"Oh," he said. He reached over and bit her nipple.

"Ungh, I …," Rose moaned. Her palm brushed his erection as she reached over to undo his trousers, pulling his belt loose and unzipping the front.

"Wait, let me—" Draco said. His hand slipped under her skirt, tracing around the edge of her underwear.

"It's all right," she whispered. There was no time to waste; it had been stupid to come here in the first place, anyways. She had Quidditch practice in ten minutes, and she doubted she'd be able to clean up in time for practice anyways. "Quickly," she said, pulling off her underwear and shoving them into Draco's hand. It was hard and fast, Rose sinking onto Draco's cock and clenching around him. The pad of Draco's thumb flicked her clit, making Rose gasp with pleasure. Draco thrust into her just half a dozen times before he cupped her arse in his hands and slid out of her, coming on her thighs with a groan just as the clock struck seven.

"I'm late!" she gasped. She wiped her thighs as best as she could and pulled on her underwear. She could see the Gryffindor Quidditch team doing drills around the field. Imelda was going to be furious, she could bet. She grabbed her bag and ran for the door. "Thanks, Professor!" she cried as she ran out of the room.

"You're welcome," she heard Draco murmur, just before she shut the door.


End file.
